


The Scar

by chloebeale



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloebeale/pseuds/chloebeale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a scar on Chloe’s forehead, fairly pronounced and noticeable, although no one had ever mentioned it to Chloe in front of her. She wondered vaguely where it came from at first…but then she started inventing full blown stories for the scar and why it was there. One story involved an angry kitten, another a collision with a table as a child. Beca could guess as much as she wanted, but the only way she would ever know is if she asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scar

 

It was unusual the way that Beca felt when she was around Chloe—she found herself feeling energized and happy, the redhead’s positive nature rubbing off on her. She didn’t even mind how her friend didn’t respect personal boundaries, often wrapping an arm around her or taking her hands or giving her a hug without warning, something that would have bothered her had anyone else done so. But Chloe was special, at least that was her explanation for it, and she brought out a side of Beca that the petite brunette didn’t know had ever existed…she referred to that rarely shown side of herself as Mushy Beca—a side that hadn’t even been shown since she was a child.

Chloe made her say and do stupid things. Beca would find herself wishing to kiss her, instead settling for an awkwardly placed kiss on the side of her head, too afraid to opt for her lips in case she’d misread any signals like she so often tended to do. She would compliment her a ridiculous amount—each day she would notice something different, whether it was the way she’d done her hair or makeup that day, or the way she was dressed, or even little things that no one else would notice, like the way a few of the freckles on her arm resembled a B.

Today was no different, although Beca was commenting on something she’d noticed a long time ago. It was a scar on Chloe’s forehead, fairly pronounced and noticeable, although no one had ever mentioned it to Chloe in front of her. She wondered vaguely where it came from at first…but then she started inventing full blown stories for the scar and why it was there. One story involved an angry kitten, another a collision with a table as a child. Beca could guess as much as she wanted, but the only way she would ever know is if she asked.

She hated to bring it up, knowing that Chloe probably felt insecure about it. After all most people saw scars of the sort as imperfections, and Beca felt that way about the scars on her arms, but those were caused by something much more personal—and were self-inflicted. Chloe had probably noticed those scars, since they did spend a great deal of time with each other, but her friend never pointed them out.

“Hey, Chlo?” Beca asked as they browsed the music store, glancing over at the redhead who was flipping through the clearance CDs.

“Yeah?” Chloe smiled a little, looking up at the freshman.

“I was wondering…” she started, making her way through the aisle toward the older girl, “where you got…” she stopped right in front of her, running her index finger over the indentation, “this scar.”

Beca noticed Chloe’s expression change and she dropped her hand, feeling self-conscious for touching her and guilty for prying.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal or whatever,” Beca said dully, shrugging to show she didn’t care.

Chloe shook her head, leaning against the rack and leveling her gaze with the brunette before her.

“It’s not personal; I’m just weird about it. I hate it,” she admitted, covering it with her hand, “I feel like it’s the only thing anyone sees. It’s almost like a birthmark, you know? Because I’ve had it for so long.”

“Oh? So, it happened when you were young?” Mentally, Beca gave herself a few points for getting that part right.

“Uh, yeah, I was like two when it happened, I think? You’d have to ask my mom,” Chloe laughed a little, “But I think it was two.”

“So what happened? Angry kitty?” she smirked.

“What? That’s your best theory?” the senior moved her hand and was grinning, jutting out her hip and inspecting Beca’s matching grin, “Have any others?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather know what really happened. I’m really curious.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“That’s very original of you to say,” Beca replied, feeling the eyes of one of the store’s workers on her and glaring back at him, “dick,” she muttered to herself.

“Are you buying anything here?” Chloe asked, holding up two albums in her hands, “If not I’m gonna pay.”

Beca groaned, irritated by her friend dodging the question. It was a forehead scar, and she had just admitted it wasn’t personal, why did she have to torture her? She just wanted to know!

“Are you telling me the story or what?”

“After. I promise.”

Chloe held out her pinkie and Beca’s gaze fell to look at her extended finger. She hesitated before linking her pinkie with her friend’s, and promptly pulled away, her head turning to try to avoid the blush creeping up her cheeks at the contact. Chloe had already turned on her heel and approached the cashier; paying for her purchases and carrying them back over to Beca in a gray plastic bag.

“Okay, let’s go,” she smiled, linking her arm in Beca’s.

“About that story…”

“I’m getting there, geez,” Chloe teased, tightening her hold on her arm, “I was playing outside in my back yard and running around, you know, like kids do. We had this brick walk back at our family home in Tampa, and when I was running across it, I tripped over like, a gap or something in the brick. I fell down and hit my head on one of the bricks, I guess. I don’t really understand how, but yeah, so I busted my head open and I was bleeding everywhere. I guess my mom flipped out, she thought I was dying or something. They took me to the emergency room and I got fourteen stitches. Mom says I was a trooper about the whole thing,” she shrugged as they turned the corner of the street, “I don’t really remember.”

Beca hadn’t anticipated that story, it wasn’t as exciting as what she had imagined, but she was happy to know the answer to the question she’d had for the past year.

“That’s cool. I mean, not cool, obviously, but…I’ve been wondering that forever,” she admitted with a chuckle.

“You could’ve asked!”

“I did! Just now,” Beca shot back, “I just thought it might be touchy. Some people are weird about that kind of stuff.”

“I do hate it. It’s ugly,” Chloe wrinkled her nose and gestured to the café, “How about some coffee?”

“Sure.”

The two of them made their way inside the coffee shop, going to the counter and ordering their respective beverages before finding a table and sitting down to sip their warm drinks. Beca’s eyes drifted to the scar on Chloe’s head and following her gaze, Chloe blushed, putting her hand on top of it.

“Stop!” she half-shrieked.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” Beca’s hand moved across the table top, “I love your scar. I think it’s beautiful.”

“It’s a scar, it doesn’t make me beautiful…god, when I was little, kids used to call me Scar, you know, from Lion King? I hated it,” Chloe groaned, taking a drink of her macchiato.

Beca’s fingers brushed her friend’s, a purposeful gesture. Their eyes met and the two of them were silent for a moment, warmth rushing over them both.

“You shouldn’t feel so self-conscious about it. I’m sure most people don’t notice, and even if they do, they probably don’t even care,” she assured the redhead, “for me, though? The scar makes you, you. Besides, we all need a reminder that you’re not perfect. If it wasn’t for that, you probably would be. You need the scar, or we’ll all start questioning whether you’re really human or not,” Beca teased, trying to reassure her by lightening the mood.

Uncertain as to whether that worked or that it would be rude to point out that it was an imperfection, she waited to see Chloe’s reaction. The older girl’s face lit up, her fingers curling over Beca’s.

“That’s really sweet, Becs, but I’m nowhere near perfect.”

“Coulda fooled me.”


End file.
